


On Top of Bag End, A Very Late Afters

by LeastExpected_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: First Time, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-04
Updated: 2002-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:47:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26213623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist
Summary: By HalethPippin wakes up hungry.
Relationships: Merry Brandybuck/Pippin Took
Kudos: 3
Collections: Least Expected





	On Top of Bag End, A Very Late Afters

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Amy Fortuna, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Least Expected](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Least_Expected), which has been offline since 2002. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Least Expected collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/leastexpected/profile).
> 
> Disclaimer: Bag End, the Hill, the Shire, and especially Merry and Pippin all belong to someone else. My savings fund for when Pippin eventually goes up for sale is growing, though, so I expect eventually he'll be mine.  
> Feedback: !!Feedback!!  
> Story Notes: A prequel of sorts to 'Tea Time'

Merry was dimly aware of an intrusion in his dream, a slight disturbance that rocked the ground beneath him, causing his dream self to lose his footing and land on his bottom while reflexively squishing his dream blackberry cobbler in his hands. His dream self knew exactly whom to blame, but the brilliant summery landscape, complete with picnic and companions, faded to darkness before he could vent his wrath. Even as he awoke a name constructed in irate, accusatory tones passed his lips:

" _Pippin!_ "

"Sorry, dear cos." A warm weight was perched on the side of Merry's bed. "I thought you might be hungry."

"You mean, _you_ are hungry. And you didn't want to go crawling around Bag End in the dark by yourself."

Pippin laughed. "You have found me out, Merry-lad." But he did not get up. "Well?"

"What?" Merry mustered the most aggravated voice he could while still half-asleep.

"Aren't you hungry?"

"No. I'm sleepy." Merry, exasperated, kicked at Pippin from underneath his blanket, ineffectually trying to remove him from the bed. "Fine. And now that I'm awake, hungry, too." With a _hrmph_ he sat up and threw off the blanket. "All right then. Let's go."

He felt the bed dip and rebound underneath him as Pippin bounced off of it, then a hand collided with his midsection, fumbling until Merry grasped it in his own hand and abruptly found himself pulled out of the bed. A robe was thrust at him from somewhere in the dark and he tugged it on while watching the faint shadow moving before him into the hall. Unable to see much at all, he was more than usually aware of the aromas filling the smial, of smoke and earth and last night's dinner, and something more elusive that put him in mind of freshly washed clothes just brought in from drying in the springtime sun. This last he recognized as Pippin, and he followed it as much as the shadow and barely audible padding of bare feet in front of him.

Fortified by the solid Brandybuck's presence, Pippin's hole-dwelling hobbit senses returned and he intrepidly led the way to the kitchen, where the fire had burned down but still harbored glowing heat enough to light a candle. Pippin reached for a second, but Merry stayed him with a touch and a whisper.

"One is enough to see by; we don't need to go waking Frodo up with too much light." Pippin grunted a little indignantly but complied, peering into the pantry with the single candle held aloft in one hand.

"Help me," he demanded, and Merry reflected ruefully that his efforts to allow their host to rest undisturbed would be less than entirely successful if Pippin did not learn to whisper a little less loudly than a holler. "Here, bring that," he continued, gesturing at a cake with the candle. As Merry pushed past him, he noticed that Pippin's other hand was already tenaciously clinging to a larger assortment of foods than it should have been able to carry all on its own. "And the ale, Merry, don't forget the ale."

Merry favored his cousin with a baleful glare before reaching for a pitcher and two mugs. He carefully filled the pitcher only a little more than halfway over the Took's protestations.

"We don't want to spill it now, do we, and waste Frodo's good ale? We might have to carry it a ways."

"But we can eat right here." Pippin was regarding him blankly, having already deposited his spoils on the small but sturdy round kitchen table. His stage whisper seemed to fill the smial, making Merry cringe.

"No, Pippin." He opened a couple of drawers, pulling a worn cloth out of the second. "We're going outside before Frodo hears us and comes out to find us raiding his larder," he said as he wrapped their food in the cloth and tied it into a bundle. "Here, you take this. I'll carry the ale."

"I wouldn't spill it," Pippin pouted.

"Hush, just go." Merry accentuated his order with a hand on Pippin's back, shoving just hard enough to encourage him to move.

A minute later the front door was shut behind them, and Pippin stopped short enough that Merry almost walked into him, beer sloshing dangerously in its pitcher. He muffled a curse, then waved the hand carrying the mugs at the path leading up the Hill when Pippin looked a question at him.

The moon was less than half-full but Merry felt conspicuous in its light and wished to be under cover. He and Pippin were not precisely doing anything wrong - what hobbit wouldn't get an early start on the next morning's breakfast, given the opportunity? - but this sneaking about at night seemed most... indecorous. Not that he was unaccustomed to the feeling; he had been known to behave somewhat less than decorously, on occasion. Well, maybe a little more frequently than that, at least when this particular young Took was at his side. And that was it, he decided. He felt guilt by association. _Usually_ when he was sneaking about with his favorite cousin at night it was because they were up to... well, up to no good.

Fortunately at the top of the Hill there was a tree with branches drooping low to the ground, and soon enough they were safely ensconced under it, sheltered from the wan moonlight. Pippin's bundle was carefully unwrapped, a mug of ale poured for each of them, and they set to their late meal with usual hobbit exuberance, as though they had not already eaten six times that day and had only a few hours left until the next.

Merry was drowsy and sated, nursing his second mug of ale and reclining against the tree, when Pippin placed his own mug on the old cloth with a flourish and declared himself full. He stretched and moved to the tree, gesturing with his hands and saying, "Move over, Merry. I want to sit there, too."

"Pippin Took," Merry tried to sound stately, as the one-day Master of Brandy Hall ought. The effect was lost on the eventual Thain-to-be. He leaned forward enough to grasp the pitcher, and raised it to refill his mug. "I am comfortable where I am, and I was here first. If I move over then this root will... _Oof!_ " His breath was knocked out of him in mid-complaint, as a hurtling hobbit body flattened him to the ground. "Pippin!"

"Oh! Merry, I... I'm sorry, I didn't see that root there and... Merry, you're all wet."

"So are you! Now get _off_." Merry shoved at his cousin. "My ale," he mourned. "That was the last of it. What are you doing?"

"It's lovely warm out, Merry, but not warm enough to be wearing wet things. And I'm not sleepy now, I don't want to go back in yet." Pippin was haphazardly shucking his clothing, carelessly tossing his shirt and waistcoat behind him until he was wearing only his breeches. His bare skin was silvery pale in what moonlight penetrated their leaf-shrouded refuge.

Merry sat up, wishing Pippin had given him time to pull on some clothes instead of dragging him outside in only a robe and his nightshirt. A breeze whispered under the branches, and he shivered. Pippin was right, it wasn't quite warm enough to be wearing wet clothes. He reluctantly discarded his robe, spreading it out carefully on the grass to dry, then followed it with his nightshirt, thankful that the light fabric should at least dry quickly. When the garments were arranged to his satisfaction he reclined back against the tree, hands behind his head. He would have glared at Pippin some more, but there wasn't much point in wasting the expression in the dark.

"Merry?" The whisper roused him from the near slumber he had already lapsed into, and he cocked an eye at Pippin, faintly silhouetted against the sagging branches and night sky, a shadow among shadows. "I'm... a little cold." Merry sighed. Though he also thought it would be nice to have a warm hobbit next to him, he was still a little irritated with his cousin. But he sounded so pitiful, and Merry didn't really want him to be uncomfortable.

He opened his arms. "Come here, then." It didn't take even a second for Pippin to reach him, clinging a little more desperately than Merry thought the situation warranted. He curled his arms around the young hobbit, stroking his hair absentmindedly. Pippin rested his head on Merry's chest, pushing in as though he'd like to nest there. It felt strangely comfortable to Merry, cradling Pippin in the dark like this, bare skin on his own, breath gusting lightly over one nipple, which tightened slightly in response. He was awake enough to notice this reaction, but barely, and not quite enough to be alarmed by it. Why shouldn't he enjoy his cousin's presence, after all? They were best friends, for about as long as Merry could remember, and he couldn't think of any hobbit he loved better, even with as much trouble as Pippin put him to.

He was drifting off to sleep once again, thinking pleasant warm thoughts about the even warmer body next to his - thoughts that he probably would have suppressed had he been more alert, when suddenly he was jolted back into wakefulness by a wet tongue outlining his erect nipple. A strangled gasp parted his lips before he could exclaim the word " _Pippin!_ " for the third time that night.

The Took stilled, then mumbled into the skin beneath his face. "You taste like ale, Merry." Fleetingly Merry wondered if the mishap resulting in their present state of undress under a tree on the top of the Hill had really been so much of an accident after all, then dismissed the thought as ridiculous. Pippin was far too innocent for that, too young to think of... well, no, here he was again, tasting Merry, raking his tongue and then his teeth over that same hard button on his chest, finally latching on for a long, drawn out suckle. The sensation was so intense it left Merry quivering with the effort not to move, and he had to let go of Pippin and clutch at the grass underneath him.

"What... what are you doing?" There was quite a lot more that Merry wanted to ask, but he didn't trust his shaking voice to get it out. His fingertips scraped the ground, finding no purchase there and finally resting again on Pippin's back, caressing against his conscious will but not without some part of his volition that had been carefully buried until Pippin had hooked it and dragged it to the surface. Merry wished he'd been able to put up more of a fight; as much as he loved Pippin he did not want to risk what changes might come over their relationship if they continued with whatever Pippin had in mind. The younger hobbit obviously had no such qualms; he had rearranged his legs so he was now straddling Merry's lap and was now attacking the other nipple with more than equal enthusiasm, apparently encouraged by Merry's barely reined-in response. "Pippin, _please._ "

"Merry." Pippin ceased his distracting attentions and rested his brow on Merry's chest, his breathing rapid and hot and stirring feelings in Merry that he had kept hidden from even himself for he didn't know how long. "I want... you, I want you, Merry, to be... with you." He kept his head bowed and his face hidden, but his hands rose to clasp Merry's shoulders, then drifted lightly down his arms to the elbows and back up, conveying his intent with every claiming touch. Now Merry could no longer deny that more than his feelings had been stirred, and he wished again that he had pulled on some breeches before leaving Bag End to better hide the evidence from Pippin. At least in the dark he would have to do more than just look down to know.

And then he did: pulled on Merry's shoulders while lifting himself up and forward, settling himself so they were pressed together the length of their torsos, chest to chest, round hobbit bellies colliding. Then more than that was colliding, and Merry thought that Pippin's breeches must be close to bursting from the pressure of what they contained.

He could almost hear Pippin's eyes widen in his sharp intake of breath and the barely articulated, "Ohh..." One of them was shaking, but Merry wasn't sure who. They clung together until their shivering subsided, each petting the other's back: Merry in long soothing caresses, Pippin in small, abrupt circles. Surprisingly, the younger found his voice first.

"Now, Merry," he said, warm laughter in his words along with the inexpertly concealed trepidation. "You can't tell me you don't want to." No, Merry thought, he really couldn't, and gave in to the impulse to kiss Pippin's neck, enjoying the shudder that ran down his cousin's body at his touch so much that he found himself suddenly pushing forward until Pippin was prone on the ground with Merry covering him.

"Oh, I do want to... want _you_ , more than you know," he moaned into Pippin's ear, thinking it was more than he'd known himself. How could he have missed anything _this_ obvious? But now - now there was no turning back, no way to return to how they had been only minutes before, and he didn't think he wanted to in spite of his earlier reservations. Maybe those doubts would return later but for this moment Merry couldn't think beyond his need for the slight lad underneath him.

And yet he could feel Pippin's lips trembling at the base of his throat, and suddenly he was uncertain that the younger hobbit was as prepared to lay with him, with anyone, as he appeared. "Have you ever... have you ever," Merry gulped for air without seeming to be able to force any into his constricted lungs, "been with a lad before?"

"I kissed Folco Boffin once." Merry felt Pippin's nose wrinkle against his cheek. "He didn't like it."

"Oh." The young hobbit lay still in his arms, unbreathing. Maybe his chest felt as tight as Merry's own. "Well, I'd like it, Pip," he whispered, and soft lips curved into a smile that imprinted itself into his skin, before Pippin lifted his head and planted the smile onto Merry's lips, and all doubts were forgotten.

Merry was careful with him, moving his mouth slowly, trying not to demand too much though he ached to claim Pippin completely and immediately. His concerns dissipated like morning vapor in the afternoon sun when his cousin's tentative kiss grew into something more urgent. Pippin's lips parted, allowing his tongue to slip out and ask, then beg, Merry's to do the same. Merry was more than willing to oblige. He found that Pippin tasted of warm sunshine as much as he smelled of it, sunshine and the lingering flavor of beer. Minutes slipped by before their mouths broke apart; both of them still wanting more but becoming too conscious of other desires to ignore them any longer.

Merry hesitated then, aware that their present state of arousal demanded attention, but still not confident that Pippin knew what to expect, or would want to continue if he did. The young Took did not let him waver for long before providing an answer.

"Show me, Merry. Teach me what to do." Pippin's eyes sparkled brilliant enough that Merry could almost see sunny meadows on summer days in them, jewel bright even in the midnight gloom. "I want you; I want to touch you, Merry. I want to make you... feel..." His words stumbled to a frustrated halt, and Merry could feel his frown when he brushed his lips over that dear face. The caress seemed to encourage Pippin to continue, "And I want you to... touch me," and before he was finished speaking a hoarse cry was startled out of Merry when Pippin suddenly pushed his hips up, rubbing the tightness in his breeches against the older hobbit's heat. "Yes, yes. I am quite certain that is what I want. For you. To touch. Me." He slid his hands down the Brandybuck's back, finally cupping his bottom and pulling them together again. "Please."

Merry wanted to shout his acquiescence for all the Shire to hear; half-opened his mouth to do so, but found the words swallowed by Pippin's still hungry kisses, and when a break came in them long enough for him to gasp a reply, his "Yes," was hardly louder than a whisper. "Yes, Pippin. I will." Then he caught the younger hobbit's pleased high whimper with a deep kiss of his own.

He explored Pippin's body with his mouth, returning to stifle moans with more kisses while making note of the sensitive areas that inspired such delightful noises when stimulated: the skin below the ear where jaw meets neck, pert nipples, the impossibly soft skin at the insides of his elbows, the palms of his hands, a spot just below his ribs on his left side, his navel. He paused when he reached Pippin's breeches, letting them both catch their breath, then softly asked, "May I?" while running one finger under the waistband. He felt rather than saw the assenting nod, and fumbled with the buttons briefly before emitting a small sound of triumph as they gave way and the trousers fell open. Pippin raised his hips, and Merry slid them off easily, leaving them bunched up in the grass at their feet.

Merry lay down next to his cousin, not daring to touch just yet, listening to his breathing. When Pippin finally wriggled impatiently against him Merry turned his head and breathed into the shell of ear his lips found. "Now?" he whispered, and felt another nod. He placed his hand on Pippin's chest, and let it drift down his stomach until he found what he sought, and closed his hand at the same time he closed his mouth over Pippin's to mute his cry.

When Pippin had relaxed his arched back, Merry lifted his head and let him breathe. "Are you all right?" Another nod, this one almost frantic in its zeal, and Merry loosened his grip and let his fingers move slowly up, then down, sure he'd never felt anything half as exquisite as Pippin, hard and pushing against his hand. He closed his eyes and buried his face in the side of Pippin's neck, nuzzling with open mouth, and quickened the pace, enamored of the sighing rhythmic grunts that escaped his cousin with every stroke, hardly noticing that he was thrusting his hips in perfect time with them into Pippin's side.

He forgot all else for a time, except how achingly aroused he was himself and his intent on Pippin's pleasure. He noticed how rapid and shallow the Took's breathing had become, how the young hobbit was arching again, with utter satisfaction, and when Pippin clutched at his hand, stilling it with some effort, he sobbed his frustration before noticing that Pippin was crying too. "Stop, Merry, please stop. It's too soon, too soon..." Hastily Merry released him and rolled away, unable to control himself any other way.

His hands were shaking. Determinedly he told them to stop, then rolled back to embrace his cousin. "I'm sorry, Pip, I'm sorry..." he mumbled into soft curls, then pressed his face and anxious kisses into the silky hair.

"Ssshh, it's all right, Merry. All right. I just want... to last... longer." He squirmed around in Merry's arms until they were facing each other, and reached up to shyly stroke Merry's face. "Can I... do you mind, if I..." he sucked in a huge gasp of air, then let it out with all his words in a whoosh: " _canIdothattoyou?_ "

Merry snorted in his effort to suppress a hysterical giggle. This was not the time to have Pippin think he was being laughed at. After a moment he was composed enough to reply, "Yes, yes you can. In fact, I rather wish you would." He didn't hear Pippin's _oh_ of response but felt his jaw drop open against him and the breath of damp air touch his skin, and took advantage of the surprised expression to slip his tongue into Pippin's mouth once more.

Pippin opened himself eagerly to his cousin's kiss, but made no move to touch Merry. His hands fluttered at the Brandybuck's back, like butterflies with a surfeit of succulent blossoms to choose from and unable to decide where to alight. Merry was losing patience fast, and clutched at the small of Pippin's back, then lower until he was gripping his round bottom, holding it still and grinding his hips against his cousin's, stroking hard until Pippin's hands finally settled firmly on Merry's chest and pushed, grunting, "Not yet, Merry, wait, wait..." and they rolled apart once more.

Pippin left his hands where they had landed, rubbing soft, small, nervous circles on Merry's torso. "You won't hurt me, Pip." Merry captured one of Pippin's hands, and moved it to his side, then guided it slowly down to his hip, massaging his own hand over the Took's. "And I need you. Now. Please, Pippin, I don't think I can wait any longer." He clasped the smaller hand in his own and guided it towards his belly, quivering under their combined touch, before Pippin shook off his hand to see what he could discover on his own, and Merry wrapped his arms around him again.

Merry was writhing with the anticipation by the time slender fingers brushed the center of his desire, and even as timid as the touch was it sent him reeling. He nearly howled out loud and his arms tightened around his cousin, crushing them together briefly before hearing Pippin's soft mewls of distress and releasing him just enough to breathe. "Oh Merry," the lad panted, "did I... make you do that?"

"Yes, Pippin." Merry was growling to keep his voice low. "And now you're going to do it again." But this time he didn't have to emphasize his words by guiding Pippin's hand where he needed it since it was already there, and he was bucking in the younger hobbit's grip while Pippin desperately muffled his keening with his tongue.

Maybe it was just that he was aroused beyond endurance to start with, but Merry thought he'd never felt any touch as rawly searing as this. It didn't seem possible that Pippin was this skilled, and perhaps he wasn't, perhaps it was just that this was Pippin and Merry had never wanted anyone more, but soon he was moaning deep in his throat and thrusting deeper into that encompassing hand until the heat became too great to bear and rushed out of him, a relieving cloudburst at the height of summer. He would have collapsed then, but found he was folded in Pippin's arms, tender crooning at his ear.

He raised one sweaty palm to caress the younger hobbit's face, outlining the wide-eyed expression of awe with gentle fingers. Pippin was repeating, "Oh Merry, oh Merry," as though he didn't know how to stop, so the older lad quieted him with a kiss, then pulled back to smile unseen in the dark.

"Thank you, Pippin," he said simply, and laid his cousin flat on the ground. Pippin did not protest this time, as Merry licked a wet trail down his chest and belly, once again dipping into his navel and tickling slightly. "Are you ready now?" he asked, half teasing but half serious, and Pippin answered by thrusting his hips up, towards Merry's mouth. "Ah, so that's what you want," Merry grinned broadly into the young hobbit's stomach, and hoped he would not cry out too loudly. He reached out and found Pippin's mouth with his hand, ready to cover it at need.

And found he did not have to worry; the only sound that won free of Pippin's throat was a long breathy sigh, then silence. Emboldened by this, he accentuated his long licks with tiny nibbles, intoxicated with the taste and scent so strong where he was now bestowing his attentions. He enjoyed the teasing, soft touches, now that he was fulfilled himself, and took his time pleasing Pippin, savoring every little jump and tremor, every hitch in his breath, until he felt long fingers twine in his hair, pushing and pulling him until his mouth was positioned over the tip of Pippin's length, and a breathless thin voice drifted into his ear. "Will you?" it asked, and he did.

Merry choked and nearly bit when Pippin bucked under him, and he had to draw back. "I'm sorry," he said. "That was too much, too much at once..."

"Too much, yes," Pippin whispered back at him, and tugged at his hair again. "More, more please. Now;" so Merry dove his head again and engulfed Pippin, and now he was prepared for the sudden thrust and moved with it. Then they moved together, Merry with his hands on Pippin's hips, sucking deeply, and his cousin's hands were still on his head, setting the pace and not stopping when Merry felt his belly contract and his fingers clench. This time Pippin did cry out, his voice eerily high like a bird's call on the early morning air, and Merry choked for air again, then swallowed, and swallowed, and breathed while the fingers tangled in his hair tightened and relaxed, then tightened and relaxed again.

They lay together, Pippin cradling Merry's head on his belly, for some time before a voice made hoarse from restraint broke the stillness.

"Merry?"

"Yes, Pippin?"

"I... oh. Nothing, never mind."

Fingers slightly sticky with sweat caressed Merry's face, ghosting over his fluttering eyelids, his cheek, his lips. He grabbed the hand and kissed the fingertips lightly, tenderly. He might have imagined it, but he felt the words not said filling the dark between them, almost a physical presence, heavy and warm in the night air.

Merry felt for Pippin's other hand, and held them both, one in each of his own, and leaned closer, closer, until he was resting his head on Pippin's chest, memorizing the already familiar pattern of his breathing and feeling their heartbeats slow in time with each other.

"Merry?"

"Yes, Pippin?"

"The sun is coming up, look."

It was so; the Shire below the hill was bathed in the blue light of pre-dawn, and now Merry could hear the birds waking and twittering in the trees. Their hideaway beneath the tree was still shrouded in dark, but enough light penetrated for Merry to see, finally, really see Pippin for the first time since their candlelit foraging the night before, and he found him more beautiful than the dawn, the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and his heart broke just a little, knowing the night was over.

"Come on, Pip. Let's get back inside before Sam gets up and we have to sneak past him to get to the door."

They dressed quickly and in silence, suddenly aware that the morning air was chilly indeed, and packed up the remains of the food (and the two mugs and empty pitcher) in the faded square of fabric. They linked hands and were about to leave the cover of the tree when Pippin tugged Merry back under the branches, and kissed him slowly. "Thank you," he said when they at last parted. His normally mischief-filled eyes were serious. "Can... I mean, do you suppose... will we..."

"Again?" A mute nod, before Pippin dropped his gaze to the ground. "I'd like that, Pippin." And he raised his head again, and Merry could see his face was lit up, as bright as the summer sky. Then Pippin was tripping down the path to Bag End, laughing, leaving Merry to follow in his wake as the sun burst over the horizon, flooding the land with light.


End file.
